


Something Sweet

by Barkour



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M, Missing Scenes, Something at first sight, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 02:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6592903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec has no reason to think of Magnus Bane. So he doesn't. (1x4-6.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Fooling around with 1x4 then 1x6. Some missing scenes, some character junk. I have not watched past episode six yet so N O S P O I L E R S P L E A S E. Grazi.

1.

From his point at the pentagram's peak, the warlock Bane unfurled his hand to Alec. A beat stuck in Alec's throat. Bane crooked an eyebrow at him. The languid falling of his eyelashes mocked. Are you afraid, shadowhunter? 

Alec took Bane's hand. Whatever intent he had of roughly taking it jolted from Alec. Goosepimples broke his skin; his fingers convulsed as if electrified. His breath stuck. The sound of his blood twisting through his veins flooded his ears; and beneath this he heard a low hum as of a mountain quivering.

Bane's brow arched higher. His lips parted. A question was on him. The high, sleek planes of his cheekbones gleamed gold and dusked brown in the thin, pale light. Alec had thought warlocks would have soft hands, smooth from idleness, but Bane's fingers were bony and broad and made coarse with work. 

Strange work. Dark work. Alec's toes ached to curl. Downworlder's work. Careful, shadowhunter. Mind where you tread.

He turned from Bane to give Izzy his other hand, but the hairs of his nape would not settle and the buzzing in his skin remained like the breath did in your ear when someone leaned in close to whisper hotly to you.

Then there was Jace, and he did not think again of Bane's blunt and manicured fingers as they swept across the pulse in his wrist. He did not. There was no reason for him to think of Bane's hands.

*

2.

"Take what you need," Alec told Bane. He gave his hand to him. The stink of blood sat in the air, the sizzling metal taste of magic too.

Something of a smile moved across Bane's lips. His eyelids were heavy with paint and shadows. His hand, now come up to clasp Alec's hand, was heavier still. The frisson lanced through Alec again; his heart, made thick, sped. 

Bane's eyelashes fluttered. The gold paint that lined his eyes glimmered with strangely colored dusts, and beneath Bane's skin long pale things moved like the hands of an old tree. Alec closed his eyes against the sight of it. 

A thing was twisting in Alec, too. Roots, slithering beneath his flesh and along his bones, to sup of him. Such prickings in his skin. The blood smell stuck in his nose. 

A vast blackness spilled inside him, and he was afraid; he saw himself bared in it; every weak and selfish part of him showed. This is what you are. This is what you've always been. Sinful creature that you are, what is it that you want? 

And he saw his wanting, naked there in the dark, and he would have reeled from it but he did not; he would not. The hand he clutched was a strong tree's branch. He could not fall from it. 

Alec gasped for breath. The roots pulled at him. He emptied. The fear first. The hate next. All the rage. Little by little he began to feel that the blackness was serene. 

The hand that grasped his trembled. He held it tighter, his palm to this palm. The tree leaned upon him. He wasn't afraid. It wasn't blood he smelled now but a sweeter thing, of green growth. Not sizzling metal that he heard, but a low purring as if a cat had curled in his lap. 

Alec stroked the fur. He wondered that the cat had picked him. Cats had never liked him much. Little claws that stuck in his skin. Take what you need. He gave it easily. He thought he'd like to stay there a while longer, in this moment of spring with the cat purring beneath his hand and Magnus holding the other hand.

*

3\. 

Magnus fell against him. The world returned quickly to Alec, but Bane was loose-limbed and shaking in Alec's arms. His gaze had unfocused. Sweat beaded his face. His eyes roamed, a cat's eyes. 

He'd slim shoulders, a strong line to his throat. The smell of him was sweet. The others moved around them, Jace to Clary, Clary to the wolf. A lock of bleached hair had fallen uncleanly across Bane's brow.

"Are you okay?" Alec asked him.

Bane blinked. He looked up at Alec. His cheek was but flush with Alec's near arm. Magnus smiled at him. His smooth brow creased. Loose, yes, and sleepy in Alec's arms, against Alec's chest. He was undone. The thought stuck in Alec's head. Unmade and undone.

"Yes," said Magnus. 

In the midst of it all, Magnus lifted his hand. His fingertips brushed Alec's jaw a light touch from the corner to his chin; then his hand fell. Magnus' smile curled in at the edges.

"You're very strong," he said. "Alexander."

The sound of his name rolled so in Magnus' mouth cracked the remnants of the spellwork. Alec rolled his eyes and heaved Magnus to his feet. 

"Come on. Get up. You need to check on the wolf."

"We downworlders do have names," Magnus complained. He leaned heavily on Alec's arm.

"You're Magnus. He's the wolf."

"So you do remember my name," said Magnus. "And here I thought you considered me just another warlock."

Alec pushed Magnus toward the couch. "Just do your job."

"Is it a job if I'm not being paid?"

"I can pay you," said Clary, who had heard only the last. "If--do you take installments?"

Magnus' attention centered on her. "Oh, biscuit, no. Consider this a trial period from a family friend."

Alec turned from them. He rubbed his fingers together. The phantom sensation of fur lingered in his hand. Alec frowned and wiped his hand on his jacket before he left the room.

*

4.

Magnus offered him the martini glass again. That pale fog lingered in the drink. Alec reached to take the glass, and their fingers brushed. Alec jerked the glass by its stem, and the blue drink sloshed. 

Magnus laughed. His fingertips touched his chin. He wore how many rings? Each of them gleamed dully in the dark light and sat thick upon his squared knuckles. He had weighed heavily in Alec's arms, upon his thigh. Magnus had looked beatific there, lax in Alec's embrace, chest and throat and face all turned up to him.

"You are new to this, aren't you?"

Alec took another swallow of the alcohol. He grimaced. The astringent taste puckered his mouth. Magnus laughed again.

"Not my first drink," said Alec hoarsely.

"Not that." Magnus gestured. "This."

"Drinking with a downworlder? Sure."

Magnus gave him the poor you look. Alec's face burned. He wished suddenly that he had not agreed to Magnus' offer of a second drink. He ought to be training.

"Oh, you are going to make me spell everything out to you."

"You're not a downworlder?"

"I'm most certainly down."

Alec studied the slyness of Magnus' smile, the curvature of his lower lip teased out.

"Coy," said Alec. "Right."

"Quite the fast learner, Alexander."

He shrugged a shoulder. "I'm picking a few things up."

Magnus' cheeks thickened. He'd his whiskey glass still in hand and idly he ran a fingertip along the lip. Alec, taking another full mouth of the cocktail, found he stared at the way the ring on that first knuckle shone like oil on stone as Magnus stroked.

"Now what sort of things are you picking up?"

Alec pretended to think. He was very good at that. It gave him time to actually think.

Testing, he said, "You're a warlock."

Magnus tipped his head to one side and stepped a fraction closer. "Very good."

He made a play of doubt: "You're not entirely morally depraved." Alec held his ground.

"Flatterer." Magnus tsked.

Alec looked down at the fog in his glass. "You make..." He shook his head some. "Really strong drinks."

Magnus touched his arm. Alec held his glass pinned to his chest by Magnus' nearness. Magnus tipped his chin up. His throat showed bare and long and brown. The tendon that ran through it cut a line across his neck. 

Alec rolled his tongue against his teeth. The drink had drawn all of him too tight. The hand on his arm lifted so that Magnus could walk two fingers up to Alec's shoulder. Nothing of the satiated lap cat showed on Magnus' face now. His fingers lit sparks through Alec's jacket.

Magnus rose some small measure of an inch on his toes. His breath ghosted along Alec's lips.

"What else are you picking up?"

Alec hurriedly downed the rest of his glass. The movement shook Magnus off, and Alec had to lower his drink to cough.

"Don't just swallow it all," said Magnus, amused. His nose wrinkled as he smiled. "Leave something for me."

Alec shoved the glass at him. "I should get back."

"You've already made up your mind?"

"It's not--very responsible of me," he said. "To stay here when there's--things to do."

Magnus hummed. His brows had arched. 

"Well," he said. "If you're sure I can't tempt you."

Air had snuck into Alec's head. He heard his father scolding him: alcohol weakens the mind, breaks your control. Work harder, Alec. 

The city twinkled beyond the windows, the stars dull beside such lights. Magnus was gilt, his elbows at his sides, arms open, his whiskey glass dangling from one hand and Alec's emptied martini glass held between two fingers of the other. One last smile for Alec, a sleek smile, a smile that moved slowly in the dark. Magnus' eyes shone.

"I'll catch you next time," said Magnus. 

"Yeah," said Alec. He swallowed and nodded. His head was swimming. That sweet scent clung to him. "Right. Sure. Next time."

Magnus rolled his shoulders and his head tipped in the other direction, a fresh angle given of his throat.

"Or maybe you'll catch me." His lips shaped each syllable with perfection: "Alexander."

Alec nodded again. He continued to nod. Magnus stroked a finger along the bell of the martini glass. His eyelashes dripped. Alec's skin was buzzing. The pentagram again, electrified by the touch of Magnus' callused hand sliding along his own. He was outside of his body. He floated. 

If Magnus allowed him to do it, it would be so very easy to pin Magnus against the window. To press his body flush with Magnus' body. He thought of Magnus' bleached and painted hair rucked by the glass. Magnus' mouth opening as he breathed fog at Alec. He was taller than Magnus. Stronger, too, he thought, in muscle at the very least. Magnus would allow it.

Magnus' lips parted. His tongue was a slick suggestion, there on his pouted lip. The corner of his right eye creased.

"Um," said Alec. He could not blink. His eyes burned. "Thank you for the drink. Magnus."

"You're very welcome," said Magnus, "Alexander. Do come again soon."

Alec fled.


End file.
